


tall, dark, and extra hot

by sweetsymphony



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Aromantic, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10950102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsymphony/pseuds/sweetsymphony
Summary: Simon works the morning shift at Java Jones and Raphael has had a long night.





	1. Chapter 1

There is something soothing about being a barista. The comforting lull of work, the scintillating aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. Despite his overall gawkiness, Simon excelled at the job. His hands were fast and sure, measuring out the perfect amount of milk or sprinkle of cinnamon. He’d worked at Java Jones for two years before becoming assistant manager, not a huge accomplishment, but he wore the new title with all the pride a four dollar pay raise entitles a man. 

In hindsight, the pay raise didn’t seem worth the daily 4:30 am shift that correlated with it. The New York winters were unforgiving and it was cold even for February and by the time he’d made it to the block the chill had settled deep into the hollows of his bones. 

Weirdly, someone was waiting.

Java Jones was more of a night spot than a morning rush sort of place. After eight the place usually picked up with everyone on their way to work, but with starbucks in a two block radius, Simon usually didn’t see a customer until at least six.  
They had their fare share of regulars, but in no way was the place a hangout for corporate america drones. Instead they catered more to the hipster crowd, drinking fancy drip coffee until the wee hours of the morning and mooching off of the free wifi. 

This morning, however, there was a man idling right outside the shop. He was average height and wearing a pristine looking black coat that probably cost more than a month's rent, handsome too, in a way that even now Simon had to notice. 

“Can I help you?” Simon checked his phone. 4:16am. 

The man looked annoyed, dark brows furrowing in obvious irritation “Estoy aquí para café, obviamente. Are you open?”

Simon fumbled with the lock. “I mean yeah. Yes. Or it will be. We open at five but you can y’know come in. If you want. I just have to-” He finally shoved the right key in and sighed in relief as the tumblrs rotated and the door swung open. “Come on in man, make yourself comfortable!” He announced cheerfully, flipping the closed sign to open and hitting the light switch by the door. 

The man followed stiffly, rubbing his hands together then blowing into them for warmth. He had a thick scarf wrapped around his neck but no cap or gloves to Simon’s surprise. It was a chilly twelve degrees today and definitely worthy bundling up weather.

He tugged off his own gloves: a ratty, fingerless, bright orange monstrosity that Clary had knit for him last winter, and pulled off his beanie revealing a fluff of dark brown curls that were desperately in need of gel.

“What can I get started for you man? No pastries yet, the bakery doesn’t deliver them till five but I can work on your coffee if you don’t mind waiting a bit. We’re not technically open yet but I was gonna make myself some so it’s not a big deal. Well, as long as you don’t ask for something too complicated. ” He turned on the espresso machine and simultaneously tied the apron around his hips in one fluid motion. There wasn’t much of a uniform at Java Jace other than the obvious black on black that seemed required of all baristas and the pimped out name tag Clary insisted on bedazzling. 

“An Americano extra hot. The largest you can make it.” The man didn’t seem much older than Simon. College aged maybe, no more than twenty-six. Under the coat was the nicest suit Simon had ever seen in his life. It probably cost more than a car or like a down payment on a really nice house. He slid onto one of the stools near the counter and sighed, thumbing through a sleek black iphone with an urgency Simon could not compute this early in the morning.

The Java Jones official playlist was a rotating disaster of Clary’s folky earth-mother crap, Maureens 1980’s glam rock, and Simon’s favorite obscure indie bands. Because he opened more often than not, he got to set the mood for the overall day. Scrolling through his Spotify playlists Simons paused for a second before selecting his favorite, a twisty combination of Jeff Buckley, The Killers and The Dirtbombs.He plugged his phone into the shops dock and listened as the music began to flit through the speakers, self-righteous hipster music as Clary was so fond of calling it. 

He got started with the other man’s Americano, dolling out espresso and adding water to the machine. He eyed the stranger, still looking at his phone intently, until the urge to ask was too overwhelming and words started spilling out

“Is this like a normal thing for you? Being up this early? Because I usually open here and I’m pretty sure you haven’t been in before. Well, at least not before twelve. That’s when my shift ends.” The man raised a perfectly good eyebrow and made not move to speak so Simon continued in a rush “I mean. You probably just don’t come here? Right? There’s a Starbucks. You look like Starbucks kind of guy. Or- I mean. You could just not come during my shift or-”

“This is not a normal thing for me” He interrupted smoothly, looking at Simon with an expression that was both intrigued and annoyed. “It’s been a late night, not an early morning.” Hard to believe. The mans dark suit is perfectly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. 

Simons eyebrows raised. “Dude! That’s intense. I went to bed at like ten last night and I’m still dead tired. How are you living?”

The other man shrugged. “Years of practice.”

Simon poured the coffee. Steam wafted up from the cardboard cup, fogging the thick lenses of his glasses and he dutifully sealed the plastic lid and slid a protective sleeve around the cup. “Here’s your extra hot Americano in what is basically a cup the size of a milk carton. I’m Simon Lewis by the way.”

“Raphael.” Raphael nodded in thanks and motioned to pull his wallet from his coat pocket.

Simon waved him off. “No way dude. Technically I can’t even make a sale this early. I would be in trouble if I actually made you pay. Plus I haven’t turned on the register. Or counted a till. So, basically you’d be making me work extra hard.”

Raphael’s mouth pressed into something that might have been a smile but he didn’t protest. Just nodded his thanks and slid from the stool. He took a sip from his drink and the corners of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly. “Not bad.”

Simon mock bowed “I live to serve.” And because he really couldn’t help himself. “Sidenote because if I don’t say anything this is going to haunt me, no joke. Where the hell are your gloves man? The next time you’re wandering the mean streets of New York city please have adequate hand protection.” The lameness of that statement reverberated around the empty coffee shop and Simon felt his face flush with embarrassment.“Come back! I mean. Hopefully under better circumstances. Preferably in the daylight so you can see how charming I am when I’m fully awake.”

Raphael nodded. “I might take you up on that.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a final tomorrow, but instead of studying I did this

“Raphael, darling, you know how much I abhor coming off jealous but who exactly is this Simone character and why is their number scrawled across your cup?” Magnus’s tone was playful with such a deep undercurrent of confusion that Raphael had no choice but to look up from his computer and train his gaze onto his best friend. The other man stood tall, arms folded across his brightly colored chest, eyes staring intently at the coffee cup in question, still perched on the edge of Raphael’s desk. It was nearing 8am now and the coffee inside had long since been finished, the empty cup sat challengingly to the side, as if daring Raphael to part with it.

He hadn’t noticed the number until he was well away from the shop, back in his office sliding behind his desk. When he’d finally caught sight of the messy scrawl he’d felt a white hot surge of something, equal parts embarrassment and excitement.

Magnus was looking all too pleased. He took Raphael’s silence as permission to perch on the edge of the mahogany desk and snatch up the cup, eyeing it curiously.

“Java Jones? Is that the quirky little cafe a few blocks over? I thought they served their coffee in lightbulbs or flower pots or something equally ridiculous.”

“Perhaps. Obviously it also comes in cups.”

“How fortunate! Lest you would have missed the opportunity to meet-” Magnus squinted at the cup “Serena? Silvia?”

“Simon.” Raphael corrected frustratedly. “He was just the barista. I didn’t even know that he had written something until I’d gotten back here.” He frowned at Magnus. 

“Well now that you know it’s there, what are you going to do about it?” Magnus waggled his eyebrows playfully and tapped the rim with one expertly manicured black nail. 

It was early for the other man to be in. Normally he arrived around noon, if he decided to come in at all. It would be frustrating for Raphael if their dynamic didn’t work so well. Raphael had been dubious about starting a partnership with his best friend, but a year or so after the launch, he’d admit they worked well together. Magnus had always been the most astoundingly creative person in any room and coupled with Raphael's head for business they’d so far been pleasantly successful. Their store had even been named one of the top ten boutiques in Manhattan last year. 

Raphael raised his eyebrows, plucked the empty cup out of Magnus’s hands and promptly tossed it into a nearby wastebasket with casual ease. He leaned back into his plush seat and raised his eyebrows at the other man. 

The downside to working with a close friend however, was the complete inability to keep your personal and business lives separate. 

“As much as I enjoy you poking your head into my non-existent romantic life, are there not samples you should be mailing? Picking up your slack is fun Bane but I’d actually like to get home tonight.”

Magnus sniffed and headed for the doorway “No one told you to pull an all nighter Rapha. That was of your own accord.” He drawled seemingly indifferent to Raphael's obvious discomfort. He slinks through the doorway, the low heels of his boots clacking on wood paneled floor in his wake. 

Once he is sure Magnus is a safe distance away Raphael plucked the cup back out of the trash and stared at it thoughtfully.

 

“You fall in love at work like twice a week Simon. Thursday you told me Gina ‘the-almond-milk-chai-latte-girl’ was meant to have your freckled, near-sighted babies.” Simon slumped over the counter and buried his head in his arms.   
As a loyal and dutiful a friend as Clary was, she had never been one to humor Simons romantic entanglements. In all honesty, it was his own fault for keeping her so updated on the tangled inner workings of his spastic love life. 

“Okay, in hindsight that was a bit premature, I’m big enough to admit that. This however is the real deal.” 

Clary didn’t look up from where she was mechanically cleaning the counter top with a damp rag, but she called over her shoulder in response.

“As real as the time you and Marco got matching tattoos to cement your everlasting five weeks of love?”

Simon opened his mouth to retort, thought the better of it and promptly closed it. It was hard to argue with facts. The three little stars permanently inked onto his left shoulder blade were a testament to his quickly won over heart. 

“At the time it seemed like a good idea.”

Clary rolled eyes fondly and tossed the damp cloth in the sink. Her long red hair was tied up in a sloppy bun, and soft tendrils escaped to frame her tired face. The morning rush was just dying down and giving way to a slower, more temperate 10 o’clock crowd. Simons was almost off in fact, waiting idly behind the register for his replacement to clock in. 

Clary, easily the cafes worst employee, had slunk in about an two hours ago, yawning into her palm and grumping at the customers with a barely concealed snarl. She was notoriously not morning compliant, but had agreed to switch shifts with a desperate Rafi yesterday. In between customers she sucked down coffee from a mug the size of a soup bowl in the corner and had promptly switched Simons easy going playlist for a somber slow jam that matched the gloomy weather outside.

Clary placed both of her small hands on his shoulders and pressed him down until they were at the same eye level. “You know I love you Si. And I love that you love, love. But I can’t spend anymore time dissecting what ‘Raphael-the-sleepless-hottie’ meant when he said “i might take you up on that”. I will figuratively go mad.”

And, yeah, okay that was probably fair. Simon let out a long sigh and nodded in okay. 

“Okay Fray. You win. For now the discussion is tabled” 

She smiled and patted him lightly on the back. “First victory of the day. Izzy would be so proud.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh hey its been a while :)

Though he and Alec had been peacefully coexisting in the same social circle for a few years now, Simon had never actually thought of the taller boy as a good friend. Which is what made it so shocking when, during his afternoon lab, Alec slid onto the stool beside him as Professor Knight instructed the class to select lab partners.

“Please don’t read into this.” The other boy instructed Simon seriously. He began pulling materials out of his bag and getting ready for instruction. “Anatomy and Physiology is a required lab for Kin majors. I need to do well and you are the biggest nerd that I know.”

“And what makes you think I want you for a partner? I mean I love a good put down as much as the next guy, but an entire semester of working together is a whole new level of masochism, even for me.” 

Alec let out a long suffering sigh and tilted his face up toward the ceiling as if willing it to give him strength. Outside of the group, they didn’t have much one on one interaction save for the occasional split cab or shared library table. Despite being outwardly appealing, Simon found that Alec’s personality was akin to that of an angry, albeit handsome, slug. Honestly, he saw more emotional range in a statue. 

“For some reason I have yet to understand, everyone close to me seems to think you are cool. If you don’t make a big deal about us working together, I might actually agree with them.”

“The flaw in that logic is you thinking that I care about your opinion of me.” Simon cheerfully refuted pulling his lab goggles up to encase his glasses. Alec’s natural frown deepened into something that was almost a pout. “Of course I’ll be your partner big guy, but if you think you’re gonna get an A out of this without me milking it for all it’s worth, you’re as delusional as you are pretty.” 

The lab was relatively simple: the dissection of a lab rat and the identification of internal organs and body cavities. Alec struggled his way through the actual dissection, surprisingly squeamish at the incision, but excelled at the terminology. Simon chattered along, more talkative than usual, relishing in the opportunity to annoy Alec without further repercussion. 

They mapped out a semester long schedule to work on lab reports and study sessions to coincide with the lecture. Alec was notoriously studious and they spent the last five minutes debating on if two days a week would be enough to both go over the lectures notes and write weekly lab reports. In the end Alec won out and they settled on three days with the promise of dropping one if it became unnecessary later in the quarter. 

All in all it hadn’t been too bad and when he and Alec finally went their separate ways he was surprised when the taller boy offered him a genuine goodbye.

 

This lab was his last class of the day and he started the long trek across a quickly darkening campus. Last year he’d lived in the dorms but had opted to move off campus for this year. Partly because he and Clary had always wanted to get a place together and partly because he and his last roommate Dean had slept together and it honestly had not gone well at all.

Living off campus was a blessing because the dorms were disgusting and crowded but it was also a trains ride away, which meant no midday naps and long journey home. It was only 6pm, but February meant early evenings and the sky was practically pitch by the time he was passed by Java Jones, ducking in quickly to grab a drink for the ride home. 

Maia was behind the counter, singing softly to the low melody that flitted out of the shops speakers. The shop was surprisingly empty for a Thursday evening and Simon ducked behind the counter, backpack and all.

“Is this your way of asking for more hours?” Maia questioned opening the tab of another container of almond milk and watching curiously as he started pulling ingredients. “Because you know that can always be arranged.

“Pretty sure that would be breaking some kind of labor law. I already spend more time here than I do at home.” He got to work pulling a double shot of espresso and measuring out two inches of cold milk. “I have a term paper due in microbiology and I am seriously caffeine deprived if I’m going to be pulling an all-nighter and opening the shop tomorrow.”

“You poor thing.” Maia clucked, not unsympathetically as she hip checked him out of her way. “Unless you’re interested in putting on an apron and cleaning out those drip trays I’m going need you to bounce young Padawan.”

By the time he made it back to the apartment it was nearly eight and Clary was clanking around the kitchen and talking loudly to herself about the ingredients of vegan baked ziti.

When she saw him she grinned warmly, a sharp contrast to the snarling beast she’d been that morning and clocked her head inquisitively. “Any call from your mystery man?”

“Please don’t talk about it. I’m trying to stay positive.”

Clary smiled and chucked him under the chin. “Cheer up poppet, dinner is almost ready.”

Simon stuck out his tongue in mock disgust. “That is supposed to cheer me up?” He considered for a second. ”Huh, I guess if I die of food poisoning I won’t really have to worry about it. Thanks Clary!”

Clary smacked him on the arm with the clean side of her spatula. “Fine, starve for all I care. In fact I hope he threw your number in the trash!”


End file.
